


Bang Bang (My baby shot me down)

by HistoireEternelle



Series: The songs that rhythm our life [3]
Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, I promise, I'm Sorry, I'm really sorry, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Martin needs a friend, Nairobi is here for him, So much angst, but he's not dead, but not really, it seems so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:54:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24588664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HistoireEternelle/pseuds/HistoireEternelle
Summary: But for Parlermo, nothing mattered anymore. He was dead inside. He died with the love of his life back at the end of that awful tunnel.
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa & Palermo | Martín Berrote, Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote
Series: The songs that rhythm our life [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1774768
Comments: 10
Kudos: 61





	Bang Bang (My baby shot me down)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really sorry for all the angst. I chose not to use the Major Character Death in the warning because Andrés is NOT dead. I wouldn't do something like that. It's already painful enough with Martín thinking he's death without making it a reality. 
> 
> You'll find the song used in the fic [HERE](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RSNHCdSR6tc)

The drive from the Mint to the boat had been a blur for Martín. His mind not able to process what just happened. Everybody around him was ecstatic. They made it! They’d got out of the Mint alive and with enough money to live as kings for the rest of their lives and more. But for Parlermo, nothing mattered anymore. He was dead inside. He died with the love of his life back at the end of that awful tunnel.

Nobody was paying him attention so he left the festivities silently, walking lost in thoughts to the prow and slowly sank to the deck, his back against the guardrail, knees pulled to his chest and let the tears out. He felt empty, a hollow shell. His only reason to stay alive left back in the Mint. He didn’t even have a body to bury, no keepsake to remember him by. Nothing but his memories of their time together. Nothing but the hole in his chest. Hole that hurt way more than he thought possible. If he had thought Andrés leaving him had been the worst day of his life, he now realized how mistaken he had been.

They never had considered that possibility. Of course they had talked at length about Andrés’ death, he was sick after all. But both had been confident they would find a cure for his disease and they would grow old together, living perpetually naked on their private island. Happy.

Suddenly, without any warning, Martín started to hum a melody. It wasn’t a conscious thing, it was something he was used to do every time he thought of Andrés. Their game was still afoot and Martín realized that he would be the unwilling winner.

_  
I was five and he was six  
_ _We rode horses made of sticks  
_ _He wore black and I wore white  
_ _He would always win the fight_

  
Images of the first time they saw each other danced before his eyes. He had been so young, barely out of college, the ink on his engineering degree still wet when he had decided to celebrate in one of the upscale bars of Buenos Aires. He was standing out like a sore thumb with his tattered jeans and white shirt, but he was past caring. He was officially an engineer and he would soon be able to afford that kind of place. So for now he had to play confident and act as if he belonged. 

Scanning the room with his eyes, he met the warm brown - almost black - eyes of a man on the other side of the room. The moment their eyes met, he felt a punch to the chest, as if his soul had recognized the man’s. He watched as the man nodded his head his way, raising his glass of wine, a small lopsided smile on his lips. And Martín had been pulled like a magnet. He crossed the room, slipping between dancing bodies, his eyes never leaving the stranger’s until they were face to face. He could see how expensive his black suit was and how proud and sophisticated his features were. And Martín had suddenly felt inadequate. It was obvious they weren’t playing in the same league. 

“Hello,” the man said, his smile still in place. “I’m Andrés,” he introduced himself and even with the loud music, his voice sent shivers down Martín’s spine.

“Martín” he replied, his mouth suddenly dry.

They had spent the rest of the night talking and never left each other ever since. Until…

_  
Bang bang. He shot me down_

  
Andrés’ look the moment he took the decision to stay behind flashed in front of Martín’s eyes.

_  
Bang bang. I hit the ground_

  
He had felt it as if he had been the one being shot when the bullets pierced his love’s chest.

_  
Bang bang. That awful sound_

  
The dull sound of bullets tearing flesh was embedded in his mind. It was the only sound he could hear right now.

_  
Bang bang. My baby shot me down_

  
Andrés had been the one crumbling to the floor but Martín had left his heart back there, in the caring hands of his lover. His soulmate.

_  
Seasons came and changed the time  
_ _When I grew up I called him mine  
_ _He would always laugh and say:  
_ _“Remember when we used to play”_

  
His time with Andrés had been the happiest of his life. They had started as friends and became so much more, the culmination the first time they had made love. And since then, it had been a constant wonder for Martín.

From the beginning, he had known he was Andrés’. From their first meeting and their “theoretical” talk about the best way to break into the jewelry store down the street to that last time he saw him, Martín had been Andrés’. His devoted companion, always by his side, always ready to please. And it had been enough. Their heists had been masterpieces, their complicity so that they didn’t even have to talk to understand what the other wanted.

And behind his cold facade, Andrés had been as faithful as his friend. Even when he had found a new One, he had never really left Martín. His honeymoons had been short and he would always come back and take Martín in his arms and press a kiss to his cheek. Some of his wives hadn’t appreciated the gesture and had been vocal about it. Those were the ones who disappeared the fastest. Martín was Andrés’ and Andrés’ had been Martín’s. Other people were only passing through their lives. They were each other’s life.

_  
Bang bang. I shot you down_

  
“Andrés!” he could still hear his desperate cry when he understood what was happening.

_  
Bang bang. You hit the ground_

  
Helsinki arms around him, pulling him down the tunnel while he was struggling against the restraints.

_  
Bang bang. That awful sound_

  
The tunnel blowing, finally muffling the sound of bullets shot back in the Mint.

_  
Bang bang. I used to shoot you down_

  
The wail that left his throat when Helsinki let him go and he crumbled to the floor.

  
Someone sat beside him, shoulder brushing against his, their heat seeping into his cold body against his will.

_  
Music played and people sang  
_ _Just for me the church bells rang_

  
The day Andrés showed him the monastery for the first time had been the day he had been sure they were meant for each other. He introduced him to the monks, explaining their arrangement and then took him for a tour. It hadn't been the first time they'd shared a bed but that one had been different. Their part of the monastery had been freezing cold and they had retreated to the chapel, dragging a bed from one of the cells and had lain together, their bodies plastered, sharing their body heat. Martín had been delighted when Andrés had tucked him under his chin, entangling their legs. Martín had known Andrés was very much straight but, at that moment, with his lips pressed to Andrés’ throat, he had found himself dreaming about “what ifs”. 

  
Tears were spilling from his eyes and a slim arm curled around his shoulders, pulling him against a body that was definitely feminine. Opening his eyes, he took in the cleavage he could see under the heavy opened coat, the long black hair that tickled his nose. Nairobi. He was unexpectedly grateful for her presence. He didn’t know if he could have managed someone else. Softer. Like Helsinki. At that moment he needed support, not pity and Nairobi was the perfect mix of strength and motherly softness. Curled against her chest, Martín felt safe for the first time since… No. He didn’t want to think about it anymore.

“I’m sorry,” she broke the silence, his voice barely a whisper in the wind.

_  
Now he’s gone, I don’t know why  
_ _Until this day sometimes I cry  
_ _He didn’t even say goodbye  
_ _He didn’t take the time to lie_

  
“He promised,” Martín cried, his voice hoarse.

“I know, cariño, and I’m sorry.” Nairobi kissed his hair and Martín let a pitiful whine out.

He didn’t deserve her tenderness but was grateful she was here. Images of Andrés last moments were flashing before his eyes.

_  
Bang bang. He shot me down_

  
The love in his eyes, his smile when he had told him to run.

_  
Bang bang. I hit the ground_

  
The determination in his posture when he had crouched down next to the Browning to make sure they would have enough time to escape. The sound of Martín’s name on his lips when the first bullet hit his chest.

_  
Bang bang. He shot me down_

  
Nairobi disentangled herself from his grip and got up, leaving him once again alone and cold.

“Come on, cariño, let’s get you somewhere warm,” she said softly, her hand extended, waiting for him to take it.

_  
Bang bang. I hit the ground_

  
He didn’t know where he found the strength to get to his feet but Martín found himself up and following Nairobi like a robot, following the pull of her hand in his. He didn’t even remember taking it in the first place.

_  
Bang bang. That awful sound_

  
“Palermo…” Sergio's voice was full of pity when it pierced through the fog in his head. He sounded as if losing his brother didn’t affect him at all. And Martín hated him more than ever at that moment. It was his fault Andrés was dead. He had signed his death sentence when he had decided to plant that button in the car.

_  
Bang bang. My baby shot me down_

  
“Leave him alone!” Nairobi barked at Sergio, pulling Martín along. Away from Sergio. Away from the man who hated him so much.

“Sleep now,” Nairobi soft voice took him out of the stupor he was in and he realized that he wasn’t wearing his sea soaked clothes anymore but warm sweatpants and a hoodie and he was lying in a bed.

“Stay,” he breathed, his eyes pleading, when she took a step back.

Without a word, she slipped into the small bunk and took him in her motherly embrace, her fingers in his hair.

“Sleep. I’m here,” she breathed before kissing his forehead tenderly and Martín closed his eyes, hoping to never open them ever again.

  
  
  
Miles away from the boat cruising in international waters, a man took a sharp breath and opened his eyes.

_  
Bang bang. He shot me down_

  
The pain in his chest was unbearable. He could see people moving frantically around him. Memories of his last moments in the Mint flashed in his mind. He had been shot multiple times.

_  
Bang bang. I hit the ground_

  
Tears leaking from the corner of his eyes, he bit down the name that was making its way up his throat. He couldn’t risk the people around knowing even more about the gang. Even less Parlermo.

“He’s awake,” someone said and Andrés closed his eyes focusing on Martín’s smile and loving eyes painted on the back of his eyelids.

He was supposed to be dead. He couldn’t stand the thought of being alive and away from his soulmate.

_  
Bang bang. That awful sound_

  
The sound of medical equipment in the background started to play an erratic rhythm.

“We’re losing him!” someone yelled and he felt hands on his chest.

That was the moment he realized they had stripped him of the red overalls of his Dalí costume and of Berlin’s persona at the same time. Only leaving Andrés behind. They were trying to save his life. Blood bubbled at the corner of his lips when he laughed at the irony of the situation. They hadn’t realized that he was dying anyway. His disease would kill him before he could recover from the bullet wounds in his chest.

_  
Bang bang. My baby shot me down_

  
Andrés left his mind to wander on his life with Martín and let the darkness take him. Martín blue eyes the last thing to disappear when he finally lost consciousness. 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to insult me as much as you want. I deserve it.
> 
> If you want to talk, you can find me on [Tumblr](https://histoireeternelle.tumblr.com/)


End file.
